Trucks

I love driving a truck. The feel of a larger vehicle, and the visibility, and the ability to transport quantities of stuff, are seriously cool things.

"Mom's car" had been a Blazer for several years; two of them, since 1985. The last one died two years ago. Because I was already looking toward seminary, it was replaced with the little Toyota I'm currently driving-- the one my husband calls "the oversized roller skate." Between driving back and forth to school a couple times a week (roughly 50 miles each way, through Chicago's traffic adventures), and the dearth of parking available at school, it is by far the smarter choice. Great gas mileage, very reliable, and wedges into parking spaces that I would previously have sighed over and passed by. I love my little car... even as I miss the truck.

This weekend, we returned to the land of trucks. Bruce's business has grown to the point of needing to establish some credit, and the screwed up excuses for tax laws in this country were putting the company in the position of losing money to Uncle Sam because they had no debt against which to charge earnings. So Bruce is selling his car, and the company has bought a truck. A very neat truck. A very neat red truck.

I am still driving my roller skate, and happily so. Wouldn't want to have to fight the thing around Evanston, not at all. But boy, am I looking forward to the weekends. Anybody need an errand run?